Bold men can Change the Game
by OcarinaSapphire24
Summary: Inspired by Barristan's thoughts in 'A Dance With Dragons', about when the Lannisters presented Robert with Rhaegar's children. {page 1021 was where this all came from}
1. Chapter 1

**Bold men can Change the Game**

Prequel AU - written 28/11/14 - 29/11/14

Based on Barristan's thoughts in 'A Dance With Dragons', about when Lord Tywin and Lannister men presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar's children. {page 1021 was where this all came from}

**Three points of divergence**; if Barristan had not been as gravely injured as the story said and therefore present at the time of the 'delivery'- if the Queen had not died in childbirth- and if Ned had revealed the truth of his secret promise, at the Tower of Joy (assuming 90% of the fandom is right and R+L=J, is actually real).

**Notes:** Sorry if there's confusion at the start- but I had no idea who some of the 'players' were at this time.

_**In Kingslanding**_

"If needs must there be an heir of Targaryen blood…"

"Stannis may be a strong man, but…"

"You'd have further civil war by exchanging one usurper for another?" Tywin asked, in that patronising way he had.

"He has Targareyen blood…"

"But not as much as a **true** Targaryen."

"Prince Viserys, then?"

Ned found himself speaking into the growing quiet, more to himself than anything, "A son comes before a brother."

But Ser Barristan Selmy heard him, regardless. "Prince Rhaegar's son is dead, Lord Stark."

"He has others." The Throne Room had gone from deathly quiet to suddenly buzzing, before dropping off again.

"May the Gods forgive me, but I swore to Lyanna to keep them safe from Robert's wrath- he was fully convinced, as my father and brother were- that Lyanna was abducted – she wasn't, nor did the Dragon Prince force himself on her- they married… By the time I fought my way into the Tower of Joy, she was dying in childbed."

Ned would never forget that smell – blood and roses- nor that sight; his sweet, wild sister- feverish and pale…and the promise- to keep Rhaegar's sons- _her_ sons, safe.

"But she was safely delivered?" Varys asked.

"Of twin sons," Ned affirmed. "The younger of the two was sent to Starfall- the elder, Jon- I was to take with me, back to Winterfell; claimed as my bastard, due to his Stark looks."

There was a long silence.

"We must bring the Queen back to the capitol," Varys pronounced. "Rumour has it, that she herself is delivered- of a daughter."

Tywin scoffed, "You intend to place two infants upon the Iron Throne? It will cut them to pieces."

"The Queen will serve as Regent- and Lord Arryn will be Hand of the King." Barristan spoke without quaver, into the cacophony of remaining courtiers- and looked straight at Lord Tywin (once Hand of the King), daring him to challenge him.

He was slightly bemused by the irony of his present. There were times, when he'd looked through the history of the White Book in the White Sword Tower, that he thought that the worst of his predecessors in the Kingsguard were those who played the game of thrones – now **_he_** was doing so. _Perhaps that was the nature of the beast- the insidious way it slipped into a person?_ "Lord Stannis will be offered the position of Master of Ships," he finished.

"There must be posts to appease the Dornish," Varys added.

Barristan nodded once. "Posts _and_ blood."

Eventually everyone filed out. Tywin was last to the door. "My son- is he…?"

"Ser Jaime will not be executed," Barristan decided, "but he **will** be stripped of his white cloak and sent to the Wall. Perhaps in the Nights' Watch he will redeem himself of his crime and find honour- once more, in service."

"_You_ say that, when Robert Baratheon's blood is still wet upon the Throne Room floor **and** your sword?"

"Robert Baratheon was not the king. The king _was_ Aerys II- the king is now Jon I."

After all were gone, Ser Barristan finally sank down onto the steps below the Iron Throne. Selmy's wounds from the Trident were not so grievous as all that- it was weariness of another kind that sapped his strength; what he'd done in a matter of moments, was hopefully secure peace in the realm - and that might have been considered a great deed in the minds of many. But to him, it was not enough- he'd wanted to find his prince – but some men of his cousins' from Harvest Hall had recognised him and whisked him from the battlefield, carting him from there to the city- where, while he recovered from his wounds, he learned of Rhaegar's death- at Robert Baratheon's hand and hammer...

And thereafter, had followed Tywin's treachery upon the unsuspecting Kingslanding, Ser Jaime's regicide- and not long after that, the arrival of Robert.

He was only one man- and not able to stop what was all but wholesale slaughter- nor had he been able to protect the late Aerys or the remaining Royal Family. But he'd returned to strength enough- to be in the Throne Room when he, Stark and Lord Arryn had arrived to claim the crown – there would never be enough time to pass, to ever forget what he saw…

_**On Dragonstone**_

Rhaella had survived birthing her daughter- only just… and she knew she would never have another child- like the fragile Princess Elia, who'd barely made it through bringing little Aegon into the world.

But her storm-born princess had a healthy pair of lungs on her- and she suckled from the wet nurse greedily. For that, Rhaella had every reason to be grateful. She was a strong child- she needed to be, for what was coming… years, mayhaps even decades of running and hiding, across the Narrow Sea- in unfamiliar lands and amongst people who were strangers, in almost every way imaginable.

The Queen wished there were ravens, still- but the storm that hit, around the time she bore Daenerys- and smashed an entire fleet at anchor, but for one of the smaller ships, that Ser Willem said would be used to get the Royal Family to the Free Cities of Essos – had also wrought destruction upon the area where the ravens were caged. The pathetic, struggling creatures had looked to be in enormous pain- Rhaella knew what that was like, so she'd ordered their necks be wrung- to spare them further suffering.

Some fishermen were bribed to sail into Blackwater Bay, to bring back news and supplies- but, after the first couple- no more returned; through either cowardice or capture.

Other than word of her beloved firstborn son's death on the Trident- no further news had reached her – was the kingdom lost? Saved?

Her husband's villainy and madness had turned more than half the realm against them – it was unlikely any succour was coming, except perhaps from the Reach; or the West- where Lord Tywin was still neutral, as far as she knew – perhaps, even Dorne…

"Your Grace!" Ser Willem's entry interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there news, Ser?"

"A ship- bearing the Targaryen banner."

_Could the gods be so good?_ "It may be a ruse," she felt obliged to warn.

"I sent men to check: Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard is on board."

"Bring him forth."

When Ser Willem departed, Rhaella called for her few maids.

Recovering from childbirth or not, she would have no one see her looking any less than a queen - she would have to pass that knowledge onto her children. It did no good to let weaknesses, passions or foibles become too public- her brother-husband never learnt that.

A few moments later, Rhaella was dressed in thick black silk, trimmed in red satin; high-necked and long sleeved, to cover the lingering scars- with her white gold dragon crown upon her brow – it was more slender than either the red or yellow gold and would therefore be less burdensome, but needs must she don a crown of some description. _The trappings of power_.

Ser Barristan entered, just as her maids finished arraying her carefully upon the bed.

_The man looked tired_, she thought, _or perhaps, defeated. What did that mean?_

He knelt with difficulty, his white cloak pooling about him as he did so. "Rise, if you please, Ser. Tell me…"

"The King is dead."

The crown upon the Queen's head gleamed amid the candle and lantern-light- and the tiny ruby eyes seemed to wink. Yet Rhaella was silent.

_Silently stoic or silently grateful?_ Wondered Barristan, noting the choice of high-necked gowns she'd come to favour (not entirely by choice)- and the sleeves with long pointed cuffs. "The Lannisters joined with the Rebellion in the last days, after the Trident…"

_After Rhaegar died_, she acknowledged to herself.

"The city was invaded by Lannister men - Ser Jaime Lannister killed the King, along with his pyromancer. I have ordered he be stripped of his white cloak and sent to the Wall, but he is still in Kingslanding- should Your Grace wish to change the sentence, to execution."

Jaime had been but fifteen when he was knighted- and then elevated to the Kingsguard; he was about seventeen now. His position had been an act of spite on Aerys' part, against Tywin- to rob him of his golden heir – and leave him with only his daughter- or a malformed dwarf to rule the Rock, when he was gone. There had been a particular gleam in his eye when he bragged to her about that- as though the dwarf was not only the greatest jape the Lord of the West could be forced to suffer, but also that Aerys himself had somehow brought it about. At last she spoke again. "No- we will not change the sentence- but I will speak to him. Ser," she asked, "if the King is dead - has the Usurper sent you for me? I would sooner smother my children and open my veins, rather than kneel before him."

_Still a dragon and a queen, for all her frailty_, Barristan mused with more than a little awe. "No, Your Grace- I killed him."

"_You_ did, Ser?"

"I must sadly inform you that; during the rampage of Lannister men- your good-daughter, Princess Elia and your grandchildren were killed. When Tywin had them brought before Robert- he lifted away the crimson cloaks…"

Rhaella swallowed uncomfortably, "Tell all, Ser- whatever it may be."

"Prince Aegon's head had been dashed against a wall- and Princess Rhaenys had been stabbed half a hundred times by a man named Armory Lorch. We've heard the Princess Elia was raped and murdered by Ser Gregor Clegane, after he'd killed her son.

While Lord Stark and the others- even Lord Tywin and his son were silent and sombre… Robert had grinned at the corpses and sneered that 'they were but dragonspawn'. Before I knew what I was doing- he was dead."

There was a long silence before she found her voice, again. "Then, Viserys…?"

But Barristan shook his head, "It seems that the Prince married Lyanna Stark- and fathered children by her. Prince Rhaegar's son comes before Rhaegar's brother."

The Queen processed this silently for a moment; _the marriage wouldn't be thought invalid, by the Northerners, even if no septon had been present- the Stark girl was of the Old Ways – and it wasn't as if Targaryen custom itself didn't allow for two wives- the first Aegon had Visenya and Rhaenys, both as queens- and some later rulers had had two consorts at the same time_. "Do all agree with this?"

"Lord Varys, Lord Stark, Lord Arryn- many others. But not all, Lord Tywin foremost among them, Your Grace. Yet we needs must heal the wounds of the realm- I suggested you serve as Regent til the child come of age. This was agreed, hence why I'm here."

**Note:** I guess I still had more of the story to tell

_**Kingslanding**_

After a few days more, to give Rhaella additional time in order to regain some of her strength- she and most of her Dragonstone party, including her young children, then boarded Ser Barristan's ship.

On sailing into the Blackwater, she came to fully understand what Barristan had termed 'invasion'; as if the people had not suffered enough through the city being sealed off- the lions had, on entering via lies, proceeded to sack the capitol – dead still lay about, despite the efforts of Lords Arryn and Stark to tidy up the city and otherwise restore the confidence and goodwill of the smallfolk, who'd suffered so much - she recognised one of the dead on the shore, as one of the fishermen Ser Willem had bribed, in her name.

Despite still feeling unsteady on her feet, the queen managed to walk from the ship down the gangway unassisted- but took the courteously offered arms of Ser Barristan and Ser Willem, to make the walk down the dock.

The journey to the Red Keep was exhausting, but Rhaella was more resilient than one might suppose - not for nothing had she survived all these years... if she had managed that, then a long walk was nothing. _It was ironic how we could endure some horrific emotional pain and degradation, but baulk at a physical endeavour_ \- if that had ever been her, it ended today. Every time either of her knights believed she was at the end of endurance, insisting she rest- she mutely shook her head. She could never explain to them the renewed determination that had filled her; _If I have been able to make it through all these years, with **him-** a walk is nothing_. She repeated that thought whenever her strength began to ebb. And sure enough, it got her through. Just.

Heedless of her protests, however, once they within the Red Keep proper, away from the common gaze- Ser Barristan picked her up, as if she were no more than a feather. Though it went against her sense of dignity, Rhaella did not truly mind. He carried her all the way to her chambers- and deposited her carefully on her bed.

Stepping back and bowing with every measure of courteous manner, he departed - no doubt he had many duties and responsibilities; he was one of only two remaining Kingsguard- the other, soon to be banished- her little Dany and her son's supposed child would need good knights around them.

"Ser Willem..."

"Your Grace?"

"Are my children settled back in?"

"They are, My Lady- the prince is back playing with his toys, as if he never left- and the princess is asleep."

"I would have none that weren't with us on Dragonstone, for the nonce. I do not wish to be paranoid, but..."

"-There's no such thing as being too careful with the heirs to the throne, Your Grace - the nursemaids are all those who tended the prince, and my own men stand guard outside the Nursery."

Rhaella sighed and gave a careful smile. "My gratitude, Ser Willem." After a moment she added, "I would have you send for the child- absent Lord Stark- I do not question his honour, but I will see the child alone."

"As you will, Your Grace."

A short while later, Ser Willem brought a woman in, bearing the babe in question- at a nod from the queen, he departed. She looked at the still bundle in the wet nurses' arms, for a long time. It was more than apparent that he'd taken after his Northern mother in looks, but when he opened his eyes; there was something so _familiar_\- that she was taken back, all those years- to Rhaegar's birth. He **was** her grandson – she felt it in her bones.

How different he was to her daughter: Dany cried, long and lusty when she was hungry or needed some other necessity- Jon was quiet; he simply looked up at her- his eyes, grey though they were in shade, were still his father's eyes. Intelligent and thoughtful. Rhaella finally smiled at him and ran a be-ringed finger down his pale, chubby cheek- and he gave a gurgling laugh in response. She had feared she would never again hear the laugh of a child... Gods, there was no sound in the world so pure- not even in the Great Sept.

_Betrothed from the cradle_, she thought with a touch of sadness- well, perhaps it was better to know in advance where one's duty and future lay- rather than dream foolish, impossible dreams. _My sweet Bonni_.

The Queen finally turned her attention to the young woman who held the new prince. "Your name?"

She bobbed a careful curtsey. "Wylla, as it- as it please, Your Grace," she answered, with all the force of whispering wind.

_She's afraid of me_, Rhaella realised. She could almost laugh at the absurdity of someone fearing **_her-_** but that would only frighten the girl, hardly what the queen wished. "Do you wish to continue as wet nurse to the little prince- or do you wish to go home? Tell me truthfully- you need not fear anyone."

The woman carefully shook her head, making sure not to disturb baby Jon. "My home were a tiny place I've not been in years- I've been a wet nurse since I were sixteen. I don't have anyplace else to go."

"Will you swear to me, then, your oath to your new role, as Royal Wet Nurse; that you will not be slatternly or lax in your duties, that you'll not drink nor be neglectful of your royal charge?"

"I so swear," Wylla answered.

A moment after the young woman gave her oath, the Queen had one guard escort the two to the Royal Nursery, and sent another to locate Ser Willem and Barristan. There was a lot to be done.


	2. Chapter 2- The Queen Regent's Judgement

After a week, in which people high and low were left to quietly speculate- Queen Regent Rhaella finally called the Court. And everyone who was anyone was to make their way to Kingslanding- even those suffering wounds from recent battles – not that many complained: **everyone** wanted to know what was to happen.

Such a command necessitated close to a further month, to allow representatives from the North, Riverlands and Dorne to come, increasing the curiosity even more- as there was an enforced silence from the Red Keep (that time was **also** used to apprehend the Mountain, which did not come without considerable cost).

On the appointed day, fated to be incredibly lengthy- she chose not seat herself on the Iron Throne- thought it was her right, but on an elegant, comfortable chair directly beside it.

Queen Rhaella had dressed the part that morning; a black gown brocaded with red three-headed dragons, a cape of red velvet, lined in white silk- and the great red gold dragon crown of her forebear, Myriah Martell. Being as it was of Dornish craftsmanship (hence the tiny inlaid sun and spear in agate and iron, on the breast of the middle dragon)- it was equally appropriate, for the occasion. Though its' weight would become telling, she did not doubt.

However, in the weeks since her return to the Red Keep; without Aerys' presence, without the rages toward failed Hands or other unfortunates and his screaming for his pyromancers- followed by the stench of burning flesh paired with the anguished cries of the dying, and the fearful anticipation of his arrival to her bedchamber- that had always followed in the later years – Rhaella had felt more than physical strength return to her: the night after Ser Barristan had told her Aerys was dead, she had the first sound nights' sleep she'd known since the travails of bearing Dany- which had only occurred through sheer exhaustion.

She'd woken the next day, still weakened from childbed- but determined, not to vacillate further- more so due to the break in the weather, which had allowed Ser Barristan to make it to Dragonstone in the first place

Appointments were to be conferred or confirmed, she reminded herself, as her pale silvery-gold hair was brushed out- sentences and punishments would be handed down and loyalists rewarded. There was going to be a lot to get through.

She was no Visenya- nor Rhaenys, but she was a Targareyen- and a queen. While she might not be as strong as some of those who went before her- she was all the realm had, and she must bring stability, lest it fall into civil war again.


End file.
